Legendary Warrior (Warrior 1)

Reena sat spellbound on her father’s lap and listened to him weave his magic. No story fascinated her as much as the one about the Legend. She had heard it many times, and it never failed to send the shivers through her small body or cause her blue eyes to round in fright. She held her breath, as did the other children, waiting for the moment when the Legend entered the story.

Patrick continued. “The dark woods grew silent, the chilled wind ceased blowing and not an animal could be heard.” He lowered his voice. “Then out of the darkness stepped four big men; they surrounded the camp not in haste but in confidence. They drew not a single weapon; they simply stood and waited.”

The children huddled closer together.

“Then as though the black night gave birth to him and spit him forth from its belly, the Legend appeared.” Patrick closed his eyes for a moment, shook his head and shivered. He opened his eyes and looked at each child. “He was a giant of a man and looked to have the strength of twenty. His metal helmet gave no hint to his features, and every man there shivered in fright, for no one knew what the helmet concealed. Was he man or beast?”

More gasps circled the room.

“With fearless strides he advanced on the battle-worn warriors, and they instantly fell to their knees begging for mercy. The Legend raised his hand and pointed to the darkened woods. The blackness swallowed the men whole as they marched one by one into the woods, not a protest made. The Legend followed last, but not before he glanced at me; his look warned me that I should not follow. I bowed my head, rubbed my chilled hands together near the fire, and when I raised my head, all were gone. I knew then why the Legend was feared; he feared none, not man, not beast, not God.”

“I never want to meet the Legend,” Brigid said and moved closer to huddle against Patrick’s leg.

“Nor do I,” echoed another child until there was a resounding chorus of agreement from all the children.

Reena joined in, echoing the same sentiments. “Never, never do I want to meet the Legend.”Chapter 1“You cannot do this, Reena,” Brigid begged her best friend. “It is not a wise choice.”

“It is the only choice I have.” Reena stopped packing the cloth sack with the few food items she had managed to scrounge together. With a heavy sigh, she lowered herself to the wooden chair at the table in front of the hearth—an empty hearth—leaving the small cottage cold, though it was but early autumn. What would happen when winter set in with all its force and fury?

“The villagers are starving and there is not enough firewood for the winter—” Reena suddenly grew silent.

“It is not your fault,” Brigid insisted. “The new earl has caused our hardships.”

“True, but who in the village is strong enough to stop him from causing more harm? And who is left to protect you?”

Brigid sat and fought the torrent of threatening tears that ached to spill. “I cannot believe my John is gone.”

Reena said nothing, the memory of Brigid’s tragedy fresh in both their minds.

The tragic day had brought a horrible change to their prosperous village. All had been well in the small earldom of Philip Kilkern, earl of Culberry. He had been generous to the tenants who farmed his land, and the land had prospered along with the villagers. But two summers ago, the day after Reena had celebrated her twenty-year, the earl had taken ill and died within the week. With no immediate heirs of his own, his land passed to his nephew.

Peter Kilkern arrived in the village that fateful day in early afternoon. The sun was bright, the sky a brilliant blue and the crops grew fat in the fields, which meant there would be a bountiful harvest and more than sufficient food for the winter.

The villagers had gathered to share the midday meal, talk, laugh and hear Patrick Cullen tell a tale or two. They watched as Peter Kilkern rode in on a fine steed, looking as if he was prepared for battle, wearing fine body armament of leather and metal. He had dismounted his horse with ease and stood tall and straight, his six feet or more height impressive as well as the strength of him, his bulk being more muscle than fat. He had sharp features, his nose narrow and ending in a defined point, his lips thin and his dark eyes intent, as though with one swift glance he could take in all and know all.

Reena remained by her father’s side, though he blocked much of her slim body with his bulk. She appreciated her father’s protective stance, for she shivered at the sight of the new earl.